


Catch Her

by semele



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don't you ever die on me again,” he says without really intending to.  This is a canon-compliant story that goes from 3x22 to 4x07. </p><p>Warning: discussion of death and suicide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Her

Damon doesn't remember much from his ride back home.

Klaus' car is hard to drive, something funky with the steering wheel and brakes way more sensitive than Damon is used to. You'd think an immortal hybrid with an army of sired minions would drive something more fancy, or at least something with more comfortable seats, really.

Damon runs out of gas at some point, so he stops at the nearest station. After he notices that people are giving him funny looks, he goes to a bathroom only to discover that his face is covered in blood. He washes it off quickly, mad at himself for forgetting to do it before he left the storage room, what a dumb mistake. It takes him a while to compel every single person at the station to forget that they saw a dude beaten to a bloody pulp, except without a single bruise.

Business as usual.

There isn't any blood around the car, thank God, nothing suspicious or attracting attention, apart from an outrageous amount of mud. Damon has to resist the urge to wash it off right here and right now, it's not like he has anything important to do, not him, not anymore. The damned thing is as filthy as it's big, and that says something, because it's fucking ginormous, big seats and big wheels, and a huge, huge trunk; the irony is not lost to Damon.

He'd be able to fit two dead bodies into this trunk quite easily.

***

There's something creepily familiar in Elena's eyes after she turns.

Damon tries really hard to wave it off, explains to himself that he sees things in Elena all the time, things no one else ever notices, but also things that aren't actually there. Damon knows he thinks too much, especially about himself, so he does his best to knock it off. Elena died because of Matt, she died because of Stefan, and because of Rebekah, end of story.

(Elena died because she gave up.)

The night after he sees her spit out blood from a bag, he dreams about his first decades as a vampire. It's a hot mess full of blood and self-pity, tiny snapshots in a whirlwind. Events are out of order, and Damon is pretty sure some of them aren't even real, but they're all depressing and they drag out like a very bad movie. Sometimes he really hates his brain.

“I'm better off dead,” he tells dream Sage, and she smiles beautifully as she cups his cheek.

“If that's what you want,” she says softly before she lets go of him.

Damon tries to catch her hand, but it slips away (that part is probably real in one way or another). It's funny that he only dreams of Sage, no Katherine, no Stefan, no Lexi, but it also makes all the sense.

He wakes up angry enough to want to smash things.

***

When he jumps off Wickery Bridge with Elena, he doesn't really know what he's doing.

All he can see is fire on her skin and fear in her eyes, so he wraps himself around her and leaps forward, holds on to her fear as they fall. Fear is good, fear makes you strong and fast, fear means that you want to run, to hide, to fight. You need fear to stay alive.

Elena gets knocked out by the impact when they hit the water. Which might be a good thing, because Damon really doesn't need her to see him finally let himself have a panic attack. He watches Elena's hands heal in shadows for several long seconds before he snaps out of it, focuses on finding her ring to keep himself busy, dives deep to force his breath to calm down.

As he puts the ring back on her finger and starts climbing his way out of the water, he wonders how many more times he'll have to drag Elena off Wickery Bridge. Damon's not naïve enough to think there won't be other times, more dawns exactly like this, Elena facing the sun at the exact same spot and him frightened for both of them, frightened until he slips up and has no fear left.

He doesn't want to think about what will happen when he runs out of fear.

***

It turns out Elena can actually be frightened for herself.

When they finally stay alone in the library, it's not that hard to guess what she wants from him. On some level, Damon knows all too well that this is a bad idea: it's way too soon for them to have sex; they should take a beat and catch a breath. He also knows that this isn't what's gonna happen, not when Elena finds it in herself to smile, drink and want, not when she sits comfortably next to him and openly speaks her mind.

He's ready to do much dumber things than sleeping with her if it means that she keeps being so full of life at least for a while longer.

Her body after the transition is as new to her as it is to him. She reacts strongly to every touch and every kiss, as if she's been imagining this for so long her brain goes into overdrive when she can feel Damon's skin under her fingers. She moans into his mouth when he unzips her dress, and he gets lost in sensation, because Elena is naked, glorious and _alive_ , so alive it chokes him.

“Don't you ever die on me again,” he says without really intending to. He's not allowed to say things like that, especially now, when freaking her out is the last thing he wants to do.

But Elena surprises him. She sits up and touches his face, smiles faintly like she understood exactly what he meant.

“I won't,” she says, and Damon presses his face to her stomach in the strangest hug he's ever given. The last few weeks were hell, but it doesn't matter now. Right now he doesn't care about the blown-up Council, doesn't care about Klaus, or the Cure, or Jeremy's Hunter's mark, he doesn't even care if Elena loves him back. The only important thing is that Elena will _live_ , Elena wants to live, she will fight and she will survive, they will survive.

They always do.

He wants to tell her all that, but his throat is so tight he can't even begin, so he parts her legs instead. He probably should be delicate about it, kiss her thighs and tease her. He never went down on her before, so he should take his time, look for hints and learn what she likes. Only his hands are shaking, and his head is not clear at all; he clutches her hip so hard she cries out in surprise, so he mutters an apology and tries to soothe her with a kiss. He expects Elena to push him away, but instead she pulls him in, her fingers rough in his hair, and all he can do is give in. Elena is loud and greedy, Elena moves against his tongue and gasps for air, Elena wants, wants, wants, wants.

It turns out she wants more than her body can handle. After weeks of fear, doubt and guilt Elena is all knots, sore spots and tension, and it's not easy to get rid of the pent-up stress. Damon tries a few tricks he picked up over the years, but soon she pulls him up for a kiss, and he follows her hands automatically.

“Leave it,” she murmurs into his mouth and flips them over, ready to return the favor.

When Damon feels her body pressed against his, everything clicks in his head. He touches her face and slips his other hand between her legs to pick up where he stopped, looks right at her as he starts rubbing her slowly. This isn't what he imagined, but it's exactly what she needs, his chest under her hands and his arm around her, fingers absently sliding up and down her spine.

“I don't want to die anymore,” she says, eyes wide open, and Damon holds her gaze, takes her hand as she kneels up over him to give him better access. He wants to tell her that he loves her, but it's not the time for it now. What they're doing is not about love and not even about pleasure. 

Elena braces herself against his chest, her legs trembling around his hips. She's laughing and she's crying, riding the tension out of her body. Damon doesn't even know when he started laughing with her, but now he can't stop grinning. He flicks his wrist and Elena shudders above him, rolls her hips and arches her back. It makes him want to kiss every inch of her body, and he might do just that, might do it later tonight, when they're both sated and lazy, when everything is pure indulgence. But now Elena cries out for one last time and collapses against him. All he can do is catch her, rest his wet hand on her hip and envelop her in his arms until she can breathe again.

He'll always be there to catch her.


End file.
